Running From Monsters
by sienna27
Summary: Total AU, no ZA happening. A world where Daryl and Carol are both living in the same Atlanta apartment house. Carol and Sophia have just left Ed, and Daryl is their new next door neighbor. Straight romance.
1. The New Neighbors

**Author's Note** : I've been holding this one for well over a month, because obviously a third story would be another distraction from the stories my regular readers are all _already_ waiting to be updated :) But I keep coming back and scribbling along new scenes here, because I get these urges to tell a 'normal' story with these characters, and clearly worlds where the undead are walking the earth, it's harder to fold in the normal. I have made an effort! :) But still, there are just things they can't do with civilization collapsed or falling apart, that they can in a world like this. One where they're just regular folks with regular folk problems. But the story title does indicate they're both running from bad things, so consider it basically the them that we know, but with a few tweaks that will unfold over the first couple chapters.

 **Things To Know**

A world where Daryl and Carol are both living in the same Atlanta slum house. Carol and Sophia have just moved in, Daryl is a longer term resident. Total AU, no ZA happening. And I'm pushing this back two years prior to the show starting. So it's 2008. Daryl is 39, Carol is 41, and Sophia is eight. I'm also giving the adults both 'season three' hair, because meeting them at a different point in time, their hair would have been a different length, and there's nothing to say it couldn't have looked like it did for my favorite 'hair year,' for both of them :)

Updated note: Somebody mentioned they thought Daryl here seemed a bit 'forward.' Fair point :) I'll explain at the end why he is.

* * *

 **The New Neighbors**

"Sir, I already told you to leave us alone! Now _please,_ let GO of my wrist!"

Daryl Dixon tipped his head, swiveling it around as he looked up to the landing of the staircase he had just started to climb.

That was a lady's voice . . . and she was clearly in a bad way.

So with him barely two steps up from the ground floor, Daryl double timed the rest of the way to the top. When he got there he saw his new neighbor lady standin' in the middle of their dingy second floor hallway, with her little daughter tucked in behind her. The two ladies were clearly terrified, and trying to trying to get away from Melvin. Melvin was a pale, pudgy, _greasy,_ forty something year old, part-time, pizza delivery man.

He was also their building's resident pedophile.

"Melvin!" Daryl hollered, loud enough to make everyone in the vicinity jump, "you let her go RIGHT now!"

This was far from the first time he and Melvin had had a run in, so when Daryl yelled, that creep immediately let go of the lady's arm . . . forcing her to drop her grocery bag in the process . . . and leapt backwards about three feet.

His eyes were dartin' around everywhere.

And at that point he basically looked just like a big fat cockroach that knew it was about to get squashed. 'Cuz he'd gotten himself jammed up in the corner of that raggedy hallway, with no exit from the floor except the staircase he'd need to go through Daryl, to get to.

And even if Daryl hadn't already been pissed, he was always just _lookin'_ for a new excuse to bust that asshole's face in.

Because Melvin had moved in to their crappy apartment building about two years ago . . . a year after Daryl himself . . . and about two weeks after _that_ , flyers started showin' up around the neighborhood with Melvin's picture on 'em. And those flyers told a story about how Melvin P. Greenley, was a twice convicted child rapist who had just gotten out of prison after a full fifteen year stretch.

No time off for good behavior.

And of course when he got out, he'd moved into _their_ Atlanta neighborhood because it was a complete SHITHOLE, and he'd apparently had high hopes to just blend in with the rest of the low life already scurryin' about. 'Cept the thing was, even low lifes have their standards of decency.

And people who diddle little kids, are the world's scum suckers _everywhere_ they go!

It had only taken Daryl one look at Melvin eyeing the little Gonzalez girl down in the laundry room, to see that prison had done nothin' to correct that disgusting peed-ophile behavior. He was just as dangerous to those kids when he'd moved in, as he ever coulda been before he'd gone in the joint. The thing was though, when he'd showed up there at the apartment building on Ellsworth Avenue, he hadn't _technically_ done nothin' wrong yet. Not since he'd got released, that is. So the handful of single mamas in the building . . . all the parents in that building were single ladies . . . had no luck in gettin' him evicted.

As long as he had the money for the rent . . . which somehow he did . . . that's all that mattered to their skuzzy landlord.

So those same single mamas, knowin' Daryl had already run off a couple of low level dealers who'd tried to setup a shop on their front stoop, had come to him. Literally, he had plates of empanadas, corn bread, and plain old chocolate chip cookies, lined up the wazoo, all paired along with one of those ladies just BEGGIN' him to do something to make Melvin go away. And though as a life rule, Daryl Dixon preferred to keep mostly to himself, he obviously wasn't about to just stand around and let the little girls in the building . . . Melvin liked little girls best . . . be left out there like a human buffet for that scumbag. So he had agreed to step in. And he did have a "talk" with Melvin. And when he was done "talkin'," Melvin had a cauliflower ear, a bruised kidney, a dislocated shoulder, and two eyes swollen completely shut.

The creep didn't even come out his front door for three whole weeks.

But that kinda sickness, there ain't no cure for. So once he'd mended up, he apparently forgot (or just didn't care) why he got broke to begin with. And so Melvin had started sniffing around the floors again. And with almost a dozen little kids livin' in that building, more than half of them girls, from then on Daryl made a point of having the same special 'talk' with that piece of shit, every couple of months.

Clearly though, if Melvin had brought himself upstairs to see the _new_ ladies, he was well overdue for a visit.

And though ordinarily Daryl would need a little privacy for that special conversation, he wasn't so concerned with that at the moment. No, what he needed to do to that bastard on _that_ night, was simply make a point. So the first thing he did . . . once he got done shooting Melvin a lengthy death glare to let him know what was comin' next for him, some real bad shit . . . he turned to the lady that he'd seen moving into the building two nights earlier.

She was pale and thin, in a shorty blue waitress uniform, with her nametag missing. The reason for that, he was assumin', was so she wouldn't get harassed on the trip home. So it was clear she had some brains there, and she definitely had some looks to go along with 'em.

That was _not_ somethin' he'd noticed through his quick peephole glance, the night she'd moved in.

And even though her short hair was a lot more silver than black, she had a young face on her. But right now that young face just looked like it was on the verge of tears. And that really pissed him off.

Basically it was just _ANOTHER_ reason for him to go kick Melvin's ass!

That still had to wait for a minute though. At least until he'd made sure these two were all right. So in an effort to help that conversation along, Daryl made sure to give the pretty lady a little smile, before he spoke again.

"Are you and your girl, okay?" He asked then with what he hoped was a calmin' tone. That was even while his eyes were dartin' worriedly back and forth between the mama and the little blondie. They both still just looked scared out of their minds.

Neither of them were answering him either.

"He didn't hurtcha, right?" He added after a second. Again though, the little girl said nothing in answer to his questions. She just bit her lip and tucked herself in a little tighter against her mama's side.

He could see how her little fist was digging into her belly.

The woman though, once she'd stopped her twitching long enough to stare up at him for a moment, she finally seemed to focus a little. Then, while she was blinkin' away the moisture he could see there in her eyes, she gave a tiny, nervous, jerk of her head.

"No," she whispered back, while at the same time shootin' another frightened glance over to Melvin, "no, he didn't hurt us. He'd just grabbed my wrist right before you came up the stairs. That was as far as he got."

Her voice began to thicken there at the end, right when her eyes began to fill again. So it was clear from her tone, and those unshed tears, that lady knew things had come real close, to goin' real bad. And once again Daryl just wanted to drag Melvin up the stairs and toss his creepy, pathetic ass off the roof, so nobody else would ever have to go through this shit. That was an idea for another day though.

A day where they DEFINITELY didn't have any witnesses!

So in the now, Daryl just looked over to the creepy ass in question . . . who now looked about ready to shit his pants . . . and then back to the pretty lady with the silver hair.

She still just looked like she wanted to cry.

"I'm gonna take care of that bad man for ya," he whispered, too low for Melvin to hear, "it'll just take me one minute and he'll be gone."

The words were intended to help calm her a little more, but the intent clearly was not bein' transmitted. The poor thing was again just stuck starin' over at Melvin like he was gonna pull a gun on 'em or something. So Daryl, even though he was a bit wary about causing new a new fright, reached out and gave that woman's shoulder a very gentle squeeze.

And when her wide, watery, eyes snapped back up to his, he made sure to soften both his expression, and his tone.

"I'm sure it was very scary what just happened," he whispered, "and I know you don't know me, but I promise," he nodded, "it's all over now. He's not gonna hurt you anymore. And he's gonna pay for what he did in grabbing you like that. But what I'm gonna do to him for that," Daryl's nose wrinkled up a little, "it's gonna seem kinda rough, and maybe a little crazy to you, but I got my reasons. And they're good ones. So," he shook his head, "you don't need to get scared again, okay? I'll explain afterwards what's goin' on with the big picture reasons. So for now you just keep your girl over here 'til I get this cleared up."

That time his words definitely seemed to make a real impression. Because she'd stared up at him wide eyed, the whole time he was talkin'. And when he was done, she immediately blinked, and let out a heavy breath. And with that breath, finally a bit of that fear began to fade from her eyes. After that, she gave him a tiny nod.

"Okay," she murmured as that too thin, faintly bruised arm of hers . . . the ladies always moved in with bruises . . . tightened around her daughter's little body, "we'll stay right here."

"All right," Daryl answered in the same soft tone, while giving her shoulder another light squeeze, "and it'll just be one minute."

Then he let his arm fall back down to his side, right before he turned around, stormed up . . . and body slammed Melvin into the opposite wall.

That hit was hard enough to actually make a _crack_ in the plaster. But before that sicko pervert could do more than sputter a pleading, "oh Daryl, come on, man! I was ju . . ." Daryl had punched him in the gut.

Once . . . twice . . . three times. The third one just for making that lady wanna cry. And when he pulled his fist back, and Melvin doubled over, gasping and wheezing, Daryl kneed him in the face.

And that flat little pig nose of his, busted WIDE open!

Blood started spurtin' everywhere, but Daryl's pants were already caked with an inch of filth . . . he did work construction after all, and they'd been layin' cement all day . . . so he ignored the light splatter of red mixin' in with the grey, to lean down right by Melvin's greasy, zit marked, ear.

The one he needed to cauliflower up next time around.

"I catch you sniffin' around up here again," he hissed, "or find you _anywhere_ around that little girl and her mama, I'm gonna break both your legs, and toss you down the stairs from the top floor, 'til we reach the basement. And you know nobody here's gonna do nothin' about that, besides kick you in the nuts when they go by."

What Daryl got back from Melvin for that threat . . . which was really more a solemn promise . . . was some blubberin' and blood bubbles out the nose, so he figured his point had been well made. But he wasn't about to leave that piece of trash laying there on the dirty carpet.

He was sprawled out bleedin' right next to his door!

So Daryl grabbed Melvin up by the scruff of his sweat stained collar, and the back buckle of his too tight, brown polyester pants, and started draggin' him down the hall, and over to the staircase. And while he was doing that, he was muttering an, "excuse me, ladies," as he sidestepped his two new neighbors, still pressed back against the wall.

But once Daryl was clear of them, and had Melvin lined up _just_ right, he gave him a HARD kick in the ass, with the toe of his work boot. Then he watched him tumble about a third of the way down the old wooden staircase, before he caught himself half with his hands, half with his already broken face. And he was still drippin' blood everywhere from his busted nose, so Daryl made a mental note to get some plastic gloves and bleach to wipe that up after dinner. 'Cuz you always clean up the mess you make.

His mama taught him that.

But even while he was thinkin' on grabbing the pack of Clorox wipes out of the bathroom, Daryl watched Melvin slowly crawl along the rest of the way to the bottom of the stairs, and into their darkly lit front hallway. Then Daryl stood there with his head tipped, listenin', until he heard the sounds of the door down below opening and closing. That's when he let out a grunt.

 _Good fuckin' riddance._

So with that all finally taken care of, Daryl turned back around, now to see the woman staring over at him with her eyes wide like saucers, and her mouth hangin' half open. But at least the tears were gone. And she didn't seem scared anymore.

Shocked, was probably a better word.

There was a similar expression on the little one's face too. But understandin' how what they'd just seen might be a bit confusin' . . . he had just broken a wall and thrown a man down a flight of stairs . . . Daryl jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"So that was Melvin Greeley," he started explaining to them as he walked back down the hall, "he's a very bad man who did fifteen years in prison for doin' some very bad things." Daryl then gave the woman a hard look. "He likes little girls."

The last bit, he added softly, hopin' like hell _her_ little girl, would't know what that meant. The little one did seem oblivious though. She was still just lookin' up at him, kind of in wonder. But again, at least she didn't seem scared of him.

He'd hate if what he'd done ended up frightening her even more.

And Daryl could see how with that new information, that girl's mama's eyes had gotten even wider. So she'd definitely gotten the proper gist there. Then she bit down hard, on her lower lip.

"Thank you very much for telling me that," she responded with a tight swallow, "we'll be extra careful to watch out for him. And um," she tipped her head, "thank you also for uh," she blinked, kind of in amazement as she then looked between the slightly busted wall and the blood splattered staircase, "well, all that you just did to him for bothering us."

Her eyes suddenly snapped back up to his, and Daryl could see how a bit of that fear was hoverin' again.

She was remembering.

"At first," she started speaking quickly, "when we came in downstairs, he was just acting polite and friendly." She swallowed, "but then he started following us up the stairs saying he'd carry my bag, and I got a really bad feeling. And I kept telling him we were fine, and I didn't need any help," she shook her head, "but he wasn't listening to me. And then the second I told him flat out to just leave us alone, that's when he got really aggressive and grabbed my wrist." She bit her lip, "which was right before you showed up."

"Mmm," Daryl stopped then to let out a small sigh, "well, I am sorry that happened to you. It's especially not right havin' to put up with that here in your own building, of all places. But Melvin is a real special kind of creep, with a whole buncha paper on him that you can look up on the Internet. The things he was in jail for, that was just the stuff they got to stick. And after seein' all of it, you'd think there's no way he'd be able to stay here with all the kids in the building, but when the other mamas called the cops out the first time, they said he'd served his full sentence, and technically he's outta the system now so they couldn't do nothin' about him 'til he reoffends. Of course that just goes to prove how screwed up the system is. But," Daryl gave a slow nod, "he should leave you alone now for a little while. At least 'til he heals up," his tone darkened, "that's when he forgets what happens when he doesn't stay away like he's supposed to."

The woman's expression softened then.

"And is that when you remind him?" She asked quietly, and he tipped his head.

"I try to remind him before it gets that far," he murmured back, "but he's been keepin' to himself the last six months or so. And none of the mamas here have mentioned him skulkin', so I was hopin' maybe he got himself that chemical fix. That's why I was leaving it alone."

That was the last time though. If need be he was just gonna have to put a note on the fridge.

' _KICK MELVIN'S ASS!'_

And follow-up on that every sixty days . . . plus maybe a special bonus visit on the season change.

Again, just for good measure.

But in the now, Daryl could see how all this information he had shared, seemed to be steadily rollin' around in this pretty lady's head. It was kinda like watchin' a roulette wheel the way her eyes were moving. And then for just a second, she was totally still, while she stared up at him with no expression.

Finally she extended her arm.

"I'm Carol," she said softly, while putting her hand out, "Carol Delaney."

So he wiped his hand on his pants . . . just to make sure he didn't have any Melvin juice on him . . . and reached over to slip her fingers into his. Her hand was small.

And her skin was soft.

"Daryl," he nodded while giving her fingers a light squeeze . . . he didn't want to hurt her, "Daryl Dixon." Then he jerked his head off to the left, and slightly down the hall.

"I live just over there in 2C," he continued quietly while staring over at those brass markings on the brown door, "so if Melvin, or," he shrugged as his eyes snapped back to hers, "anybody else, pops up around here and makes you nervous, you just give me a hollder and I'll take care of it. And seein' as you're new here," he gave her a look, "a safety tip. Don't go down the laundry room after dark unless you got a buddy much bigger than your little one here. If you can, the safest times to go generally, are Saturday and Sunday afternoons, before sundown. That's when most of the other ladies are in and out."

The Carol woman's lips twisted then in a bit of a curious smile.

"Do you work as the security guard here?"

And he felt a faint heat touch his cheeks.

"Naw," he scoffed, while letting his fingers fall away from hers, "ain't nothing formal like that. It's just uh," he rolled his eyes, "well, it's a real bad neighborhood, and we got a slumlord that don't show up for nothin' but the rent. So I do my best to keep the riff raff out, and an eye on things just generally. And aside from creepy Melvin, most people living in here are decent folk. It's mostly split, half of 'em are old people, and half young mamas with little kids. There's one Dominican family up on five, but I think the dad works like three jobs 'cuz I only see him every few months, so you couldn't really go to him for help if you needed it. And in this area, the cops take about forty-five minutes to show up for anything besides a report of an actual murder happenin' right in front of ya. That'll get 'em here in about fifteen minutes. I know this from experience." Then Daryl shrugged. "That ain't really their fault though," he continued quietly, "it's just constantly real bad stuff going on around the neighborhood. So people around the building keep an eye out, and they call me if there's a problem that needs attention. We ain't had a rape or murder at this address, in almost two years, and you can't say that about any other building on this block. And Melvin, he ain't got his hands on none of the kids yet either, so yeah," Daryl tipped his head, "you could say our little system does help some. But," his lips pressed together, "it's still a hard place to live even with the folks here doin' their best to keep watch. So," he let out a heavy sigh, "like I said, anybody bothers ya, you just let me know."

That time when Daryl finished speaking, Carol could feel a small lump in her throat. Because in the three weeks since she and Sophia had fled from Ed and their nightmare of a home life, this was honestly the first person she'd come across who actually seemed to be genuinely kind and decent. And to find him living here, in this awful neighborhood, was so strange. And for that, for being the one bright spot so far in this land of darkness, she gave him a soft smile as she whispered back, "I definitely will let you know if I have any problems." Then she swallowed and patted her girl's shoulder.

"Oh and uh," her eyes crinkled, "this here is my daughter, Sophia."

Daryl's lip quirked up then, as he tipped his head.

"It's nice to meet you Miss Sophia," he said softly, right before his eyebrow quirked up, "and did you know you look just like your mama?"

And that girl gave him a shy smile, and whispered back.

"Grammy says we're twins."

"Yeah," his mouth twitched as he looked back and forth between the identical blue eyes and scrunchy little noses, "your grammy's right about that."

Seeing how that little girl's smile stretched then, even though she brought her hand up to hide it, she looked even more like her mama. And Daryl couldn't help but shoot Carol a quick grin.

"She really does look just like you," he huffed. And seeing the faint blush that touched Carol's cheeks at that observation, he realized he might be embarrassin' her. So he quickly moved on to wrapping things up.

Specifically by stoopin' down to pick up the ladies scattered groceries.

That was even though Carol tried to stop him off with her own stoop and an, "oh, no, Mr. Dixon, I can get those." But he just brushed her fingers away with a faint bit of amusement, and a murmur of, "it's Daryl, and don't be silly." And when he shot her a quick glance, he couldn't help but notice that just increased the blush on her cheeks.

And good God, she was just the prettiest thing with that extra pink in her skin.

But that was a point he tried very much to push to the side of his head, while he moved to quickly scoop up her meager little supply of groceries. As far as he could see it was just the one small jar of generic peanut butter, a box of store brand saltines, a can of chicken, a can of peas, and a six pack of those Ramen noodles. And he was really hoping that wasn't all the food those ladies had to their name, but as tucked the last pack of noodles back inside the only half full plastic bag, he had a feelin' it probably was.

But he didn't wanna embarrass anybody by asking the question, so when he came back to his feet, and handed the bag off to Carol, he just left it at a polite, "here you go."

"Right," she whispered in response as she twisted the bag around her fingers, "thank you." Then she winced and shook her head.

"God, I must have thanked you twenty times in five minutes," she huffed with a faint bit of embarrassment, "not that I didn't mean all of them of course, but I do know how to say other words too."

Okay, and NOW she sounded like an even bigger idiot than she did before!

Great!

Daryl's mouth quivered a bit at the _fresh_ shade of pink he could see startin' to bloom on Carol's face. Then he let out a slight huff of his own, as he started to pull his keys out from his pants pocket.

"Well," he tipped his head, "then I will look forward to _hearin_ ' some of those other words the next time we meet."

That caused the pink to finally blossom out to a full deep red, but he could also see how Carol's mouth was quivering then too.

She was trying to get her smile under control.

"I'll make a list," she finally answered him, with a serious tip of her head, "starting with the As." And he couldn't help himself . . . he ended up giving her a full grin for that one. She'd earned it.

And it was pretty nice when she ended up givin' him the same grin in kind.

Her whole face let up then.

That's when he really wanted to say something else. Something about how she looked so pretty with that extra color in her cheeks and that happy smile on her face, but he didn't wanna push the conversation too far. They'd just met after all, and under peculiar circumstances, at that. So he was tryin' to be careful not to say anything that might make her uncomfortable. Otherwise she might think he was maybe just a different kinda creep than Melvin.

The kind that liked _grown_ girls, and not little ones.

So with the keys now jingling in his hand, he made himself swallow those words, and turn away. Then he started walkin' the few steps down the hall towards his apartment, all while calling over his shoulder, "you ladies have a good night, and don't forget to lock up tight."

"We will," Carol answered Daryl with a soft sigh, "and thanks again for everything."

That time when she spoke, he just gave a little wave over his shoulder. And though Carol knew that she and Sophia really did need to get out of the hall . . . Daryl had already told her this wasn't a safe building . . . still, she found her eyes following him the rest of the way over to his door on the other side of the narrow hallway.

It was ten steps in total.

And that's where he paused for a moment, right before he was about to slip his key into the lock.

Then he turned around.

"If you're lookin' for friends," he called back, just loud enough for her to hear, "Miss Fernandez up on six, she's a single mama too, and she's got a little one probably about the same age as Sophia. Her name's Emelita. The little one that is," he clarified with a slight jiggle of his head, "not the mama. That's Carmen."

"All right," Carol nodded slowly, keeping her eyes down, as she started to pull her own keys out from the little zippered compartment on the outside of her hobo bag, "thanks for the tip. I'll go up and introduce myself this weekend."

Then, feeling a stray spark of something that she couldn't quite define, her gaze finally shifted back up to Daryl's, while she added quietly, "would it help my introduction if I told Carmen that Daryl sent me?"

It might have been a silly thing to poke into, the nature of his relationship with this other random woman, because it wasn't like Carol was actively looking to find herself a new man.

Especially not when she was still _very_ ACTIVELY running from the old one!

But if she _was_ looking for a new man, somebody like Daryl, who was physically strong and protective, but still kind and soft spoken, would obviously be pretty high on that list. And if all of the other single mothers around there really did come to him to drive the creepy men away . . . which Carol's personal observation would say absolutely that was true, because she'd already seen what he could do for herself . . . then clearly her impression of his fine character was already shared by the rest of the building.

And those would be people who knew him much better than she did.

So the fact that he was also VERY good looking, with really pretty eyes, and some extremely impressive muscles . . . the kind you wanted to reach out and touch, just to feel them . . . was not relevant to her feelings here at all. She took a shallow breath.

Not a bit.

And at that moment, Carol could see how the very handsome, well muscled man in question, had paused with his body half through his front door. It was almost like he knew what she was thinking.

Then he turned around again . . . that time with a very faint, very soft smile on his lips.

"You can tell her that if you want," he answered back in the same quiet tone that she'd used, "but _Miss_ Fernandez only calls me _Senor_ Dixon." His eyes crinkled a bit as he slowly shook his head, "'cuz she and I ain't any more familiar than that."

Feeling her whole face start to get hot, because it was clear that the man had DEFINTELY been reading her mind there(!), Carol had to bring her hand up to her cheek to try and cover over the flush. Then, before she said anything else embarrassing . . . like brought up his _MUSCLES_ or something(!) . . . she quickly moved to get her own door open.

But once she'd gotten the lock turned, that door pushed back, and had shuffled Sophia inside the front hallway, (with the whispered instruction to go get a glass of milk), Carol ventured another quick (final) glance over to the other side of the hall.

She was expecting to see a closed door.

Instead though, to her surprise, she saw Daryl was still standing there half in, and half out of his apartment. It was clear that he'd been waiting to get her attention again.

And when their eyes locked, he tipped his head.

"I ain't gay," he said softly, "I ain't married, and I don't have a girlfriend, and I'm telling you those things Carol, because I'm takin' from your last question that you might have some interest in that information. And so assumin' that's true, about your interest that is, I'd just like to say that I think you are _very_ pretty," his eyes crinkled, "and you seem nice, and if you and Sophia would like to maybe come over for dinner sometime, I get off work at three, generally home no later than five. But," his lip quirked up in a bit of a wry smile, "if I'mreadin' things totally wrong, and you don't have any interest here, then I'll just say it was real nice meetin' you and your girl, I'm glad you're both okay, and most important," he gave her a look, "you still don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it," he shook his head, "'cuz one situation don't have nothin' to do with the other."

After Daryl finished speaking, for a moment . . . or three . . . Carol continued to just stand there staring over at him, with her mouth open, her heart racing, and the handles of that groceries bag cutting into her palm. Because that man had just gone and thrown ALL of his cards down on the table!

And now she didn't know what to do!

Because even with her silly little poke at his relationship with Carmen . . . the one he'd seen right through . . . she didn't think anything at all would come of that. All she'd really been expecting was to maybe just occasionally run into him in the hall, and admire those pretty blue eyes and nice muscles from afar. Because after all these years of being told by her Ed, that she was an ugly, out of shape, frump, who should feel honored that he was still willing to climb on top of her once a week, it really hadn't occurred to Carol that _this_ man . . . her eyes started to sting . . . might actually think she was pretty. Or that he might be feeling the same pull towards her, that she was feeling towards him.

Just the _idea_ of it . . . of meeting a nice man . . . was exhilarating!

The reality was though . . . she felt a stab of pain in her gut . . . she really had no business at all getting involved with anyone. It would be foolish, and selfish . . . and dangerous. Because Ed was still hunting her. And she knew he wouldn't just give up.

Not until the bitter end.

So she finally she bit her lip, and gave Daryl a sad smile.

"You read things just right," she answered with a faint sigh, "I was poking around to see what you're situation was." She shook her head, "but I was just being silly. Because I'm uh," her voice started to thicken, "well, I'm not really available. Technically. Because _technically,_ " she sniffled, "I'm still married, and it wouldn't be right to drag you into my situation. It's not safe."

Daryl blinked once, before he let out a slow breath. Then he walked back across the narrow hallway and stopped in front of Carol.

She was scrubbing at the tears in her eyes.

"You ran away 'cuz he hit you, is that right?"

His words were soft and quiet, but still he saw those little pools in her eyes, just start to fill up yet again.

Then they began to spill over.

"Yes," she swallowed, "me and Sophia both. We only got away three weeks ago. At first we were at the shelter, but it was just the emergency kind, not long term. So once they found me the waitress job and I got my first check, they said we had to go. That's when we came here." She shook her head, "but I know my husband is out there looking for us. And he's not going to stop. So like I said I was just being silly poking around there," she sniffled again, "because it's just not safe to be around me."

Of course it would figure, she finally gets away, gets her own job, her own money, and her own place, and somehow she meets a nice man living right across the hall from her new apartment, and still Ed managed to ruin it. She bit her lip.

Just like he'd ruined everything else in her life.

For a second Daryl just looked down at Carol trying to blink the tears back from her eyes. And even though this was a woman that he barely knew, seeing her like that, so frightened and defeated, it made him feel terribly sad. And that was even though most of the people in that buildin' had a sad story.

That's why they lived in that building.

But this particular woman, there was something there in her that was different than the others. Or at least it made him feel different. And he didn't wanna just say, "all right, well, good luck with that," and go back to his own life. So instead he found himself reaching over to brush the back of his hand along her cheek.

He wiped away one of the tears that had spilled over.

And when her eyes widened in surprise, he let his hand fall down to catch her fingers.

"I ain't afraid of your husband Carol," he said softly, "because any man who beats up ladies and little girls, is just as pathetic and disgustin' as our neighbor Melvin downstairs. So," he shrugged, "if that's really your main concern here, _my_ safety, please don't worry about that." His lip quirked up then in a bit of a cold smile, "'cuz I can take care of myself just fine."

Carol blinked and sniffled.

"Really?" She asked with a faint crackle in her voice, "you don't care about that at all? Because that kind of baggage," her mouth twisted then, "I'd think it's usually kind of a deal breaker, isn't it?"

He shrugged.

"Maybe for some," he sighed, "but trust me, no matter how bad your husband is, I've dealt with worse. So," he gave her fingers a light squeeze, "whaddya say? You and Sophia wanna come over Friday for pizza and see how it goes?"

"Yeah okay," Carol sniffed again as she gave him a watery smile, "that would be nice."

His eyes crinkled.

"Good. And hey," his expression sobered a bit then as he continued with a shrug, "it's just pizza, not a lifelong commitment. So if it turns out we don't actually enjoy spendin' time together like we're thinkin' we might, that'll be the end of it. Then we can just exchange awkward waves in the hallway until one of us moves out of the building." His eyebrow inched up, "sound good?"

His hope was that the little joke would ease up the last of the tension from the moment. It seemed to do the trick. 'Cuz that time he saw Carol's mouth start to quiver, right before she let out a little giggle.

"Yeah," Carol sniffled and grinned up at Daryl, "that sounds like a good exit plan to me."

God, if he was going to be this sweet and funny just asking her out, he was going to ruin her! And also just the fact that he didn't only ask her out, but he'd asked if she wanted to come over with Sophia, was so perfect. Yes, it's not like she had a babysitter or anything . . . she and Sophia were a package deal . . . but he could've offered to come over for a drink after her daughter went to bed.

That's what a man who just had _one_ thing on his mind would've done.

But no, this man invited an eight year old to join them for dinner. Clearly he wasn't expecting anything physical from her at all. It was just as well though, because she hadn't had a date in ten years.

She was a bit rusty.

On that note, it was also probably best that she got herself out of the hallway now before she said/did anything to screw this up. And she was just about to open her mouth and say good night (again) when Daryl suddenly let go of her fingers, and reached up to touch her cheek again.

"Can't leave you with tears on your face," he murmured while brushing his thumb along her jaw, "that's just bad manners."

And feeling how gently he was wiping away the remnants of her crying, made Carol's breath catch. Because nobody had been so sweet to her in years. And then when he was done with that, he let his arm fall down to his side before he shot her a little wink.

"I'll see you Friday."

Then he turned and walked back over to his apartment. Then he stepped inside . . . and closed the door.

Once again, Carol found herself standing there like a fool. This time though, she was a happy fool. Because this was the first man who had shown her any interest since she'd lost a decade of her life to the monster that she'd married. And Daryl was nothing like Ed. Ed had never, even on his early, best foot forward days, performed a kind or gentle act. He never would have jumped in to save her (or anyone) from being attacked by that awful Melvin. So why the hell had she married him? Well, back then Carol had been the kind of woman who needed to have a man in her life. From eighteen up, she'd gone from one to the other with barely a break to catch her breath in between. Most of them had been harmless. One or two had smacked her around a bit, but fortunately those ones had opted to dump her on their own, so she hadn't gotten stuck. Not until she'd met Ed. And she'd made a terrible mistake in trusting that he was one of the harmless ones, and not one of the others.

She'd paid dearly for it.

Sophia too.

Now though . . . she took a deep breath . . . maybe the universe was going to finally cut her and her daughter a break. But Carol was going to be cool and cautious, and take things really slow. The best approach really was to just have the dinner and hope it would go well, but really just be grateful that her girl was going to get one real meal this week and not this . . . she shook the grocery bag with a roll of her eyes . . . cheap Ramen noodles for dinner nonsense.

Speaking of though, it was time to get inside and get those cheap noodles cooked up. The food might have been terribly unhealthy, but at least it would fill their bellies. So with that, Carol finally turned and stepped inside her new, shabby, little unfurnished apartment.

The door closed with a click.

* * *

 _A/N 2: So you see I like this one for a break, because it's straight romance. They don't have ZA complications, or Carol literally just being out of the house, or her husband actually still there and knocking her around. They're just both single (mostly) and living under the same roof._

 _And the updated note on Daryl, remember this is an AU him and you'll see here his circumstances are very different. He's not the cowed younger brother following Merle around and doing what he tells him to do. He's off on his own in the city, working a job to save up money for reasons that will become clear soon. So just like Carol blooming without Ed, Daryl living a life (for many years obviously now) as his own man, obviously the go to man around the building, he's going to be less reticent to start. The goal obviously isn't to go so far that you can't 'see' Daryl any longer, but please just view him with this background in mind :) That's actually why I like writing a TOTAL AU, because you do get to tweak things and the balancing act is to make those changes, see how that affects the growth of the characters, and what would stay with them, and what would change. And I get how maybe some folks might not enjoy reading a 'tweaked' version of somebody that they love and prefer the other way, but I'm taking this from the writing standpoint of an exercise. Because it would be 'bad writing' for me to say that a person who lived a totally different life, would still be the exact same person. Because clearly all of our experiences are what makes us who we are. So, long story short, that's why Daryl is more 'forward' :) Again, balancing act though! And if you decide to stick around with me here, I will do my very best not to fall off the beam! :)_

 _And again, my brain insists on writing a 'Damsely Carol,' and a 'Swoops In To Save The Day, Daryl,' to open each of these. And without walkers, I thought creepy Melvin was a good ongoing threat. Also just that they live in a terribly dangerous neighborhood too, so stuff can happen there ;) And we will find out why Daryl is living in such a hole when a steady job in construction should be providing him the money to live in a safer neighborhood than 'running from Ed/just kicked out of the shelter,' Carol._

 _Side note, I do SOLEMNLY promise that I won't open any other new stories until I get at least one of these current ones wrapped up! :) But three should be a nice even rotation. I did find over when I was writing in Criminal Minds, that it was helpful to have other worlds (with different feels to them) to explore, to keep from getting blocked. Because as my regular TWD readers know, I already got tripped up this month doing that 'action based' chapter over in TIN, so Cedar Forest was a nice escape for me, and kept the postings going for you guys. I'm hopeful having this third story this will just be more of the same in keeping my brain happy :) And really, I've already been working on it when I needed the break. It's just that you all get to see it now too!_

 _Lastly, for those who are interested, the next TIN draft is moving along. But I am starting a new job tomorrow (yay and 'aaaaaah!') so let's say conservatively that the next chapter there will be ready to post by the end of next weekend. Possibly earlier, but probably not any later :)_

 _Thanks all!_


	2. Plans, Changed

**Author's Note** : I know this seemed to have fallen dead in its tracks, but even my main stories hit the wall for a while due to life stuff. And actually somebody left a review here very recently, which is what made me think, "oh, I should see how close to final that last draft was." To my surprise, it was pretty close to done :) So FYI, if you put something on my radar, sometimes it does help kick it to the head of the line.

For here, please be aware (so you don't yell at me later), there is an overview in this chapter of a past relationship that Daryl had with another canon character. And I'm just flagging it because some of you might get to that section and be like, "dear God, my eyes!" Obviously I am a Caryler, so the other person is not Beth, (also she would've been like 12 in this story as opposed to the ripe old age of 15 on the show :/), but still, some people are very adamant with their ships and don't wish to be "subjected" to that nonsense :) But again, it's just his memories here, and I'll explain at the end how I decided to fold in that person and not just go with a random imaginary female with that AU background. And now that you know it's coming, you can always skim the section if that's what you need to do :)

Otherwise, picking up with Daryl a couple days later. Lots of his AU background filled in here. And again, remember different back story, will leads to different tweaks to the personalities :)

* * *

 **Plans, Changed  
**

The next two days went by pretty much per usual for Daryl.

On Wednesday there was work from six to three, then a stop in at the bar closest to their current construction site for two beers and a game of darts with the guys on his crew, before he picked up some takeout deli on the way home to cover his dinner. Then today, Thursday, he decided to skip the beer and the darts to just grab up a six pack on the corner, and some Chinese takeout from the place on the next block over. And that's where he was coming home from now, with one paper bag under his arm, and a plastic/paper combo, dangling down off of his clenched fingers. Yesterday he'd got inside his front door a little before five o'clock, today he was looking to be in by three-thirty at the latest.

That suited him just fine.

Of course he knew that his life might've seemed pretty boring to a lot of folks, but the routine he had worked for him, because he really did just prefer to live quiet. Also though, as a rule, (as much as possible) he liked to be home before the sun went down, because that was when his neighborhood passed over from plain old "sketchy," to "complete war zone." And that dividin' line was generally about eight-thirty, nine pm. That was the time of day when all the degenerates started rolling out of bed, to go hang out on the stoop with their joints, and their forties, yelling those idiotic catcalls to the women, (because ladies LOVED it when strange men yelled filthy things at them), and just generally put their time into harrassin' anybody who had the nerve to be out walking after dark. And it wasn't that Daryl was afraid of those assholes bothering him . . . after the life he'd had, there wasn't much left in the world he was afraid of now . . . it was just that didn't want no part of that macho bullshit. 'Cuz if you engaged with those fuckers they came right at you, but if you _ignored_ those fuckers, they came at you then too.

Basically there was just no way to win.

And quite frankly, he was really just gettin' too God damn old to be kicking in his heads on a daily basis. Truth was, he didn't care much at all for city living, but for the fact that the jobs in the city paid literally _ten_ times more than where he'd grown up. That was the only reason he'd moved down to Atlanta, and that was the only reason he stayed there.

The money.

So he was just bidin' his time, and savin' up every single one of his pennies, until he could get the hell back out to the boondocks again. He'd already put in three years, four months and two plus weeks, living in the slums, and he was figurin' another three, maybe four years there tops, and he'd have all the pennies he needed, to buy the land, and build the house that he was planning for the outskirts of the Chattahoochee National Forest. That's where he'd grown up. And he'd had his eye on twenty acres out in the middle of what most everyone he knew these days, would say was nowhere. It wasn't nowhere to him though.

To him it was perfect.

Because that land included a small lake, that even had a dock already built on it. The only actual building there though, was just a tiny, web filled, cabin. In his present circumstances that would've been living space enough for just him. But given how he was planning on settling in on this land for the duration of his time on the planet, and how hopefully (God willing) someday he'd find himself a lady to share that land _with_ him, he wanted something a lot nicer to live in out there than just the skeleton of a sixty year old hunting cabin.

The thing was literally older than he was.

So after he got all the land bought . . . that was step one of his big plans, a step he was close to reachin' with what he'd saved so far . . . he was gonna start buildin' himself a smart little house there too, right by the water.

That was step two of the plans.

And that house was going to be real sweet when he was done. He was thinkin' five rooms, covering over two stories with big windows all over, and a big stone fireplace tying in the center of each floor. And then after that was done, probably he'd convert the old cabin over to like a workshop or something. But he was gonna need it for living though, while he was doing the build on the new house. That was actually why he'd got himself into construction about ten years back.

So he could learn how to do all that buildin' shit himself.

This way he wouldn't have to pay an arm and a leg in labor, on top of all the basic supplies which would cost enough by themselves seeing as how he was goin' to have to put in a well to. But really, he had the whole thing planned out pretty good. He'd even made a few sketches and started making his list of what he'd need for the construction when he was ready to go. And the lucky thing was, nobody wanted the land he wanted, because it was a good twenty klicks out from even the closest of the unincorporated towns. But it was a place Daryl had gone searching for after he found a copy of the land deed in the back of a closet in the family house. After he'd driven out and found the place . . . and really fell in love with it, snakes and bugs and all . . . he'd done some digging around with the county records, and found out his granddaddy had bought that lake, and all that land, a million years ago, but it fell out of the family 'cuz his jackass daddy had stopped payin' the property taxes back when Daryl was still in short pants. He rolled his eyes.

Like the thirty bucks a year it cost back then woulda killed him.

But whatever. The point was, now Daryl was stuck saving up to buy back his birthright, for hundred times over what his granddaddy had paid for it back in the day. He let out a heavy sigh as he started to cross the street.

Such was the way of things though.

And at last count of the money in his savings account, he was just four grand shy of having what he needed to buy the next parcel of land. That would give him fifteen acres. They were all bundled up to be bought back from the county in parcels of five acres each, so then he'd just have five more to go. And God knew he wanted every last one of those acres back. It was a way to maybe make his family name something again. At least that was his thoughs.

Even if it was a silly one.

Once he got the land sorted though, the rest of his time in the city he'd be working to pay down the materials for the house . . . which he'd then start building on the weekends . . . and continue on to save up a big enough of a nest egg in cash, to get by for the duration. Because once he got back out there in the country again, he wanted to be done with the rest of the world. And with him doing his own build, he'd own everything on that land free and clear, so all he'd have to do pay was the taxes. The lucky thing was, for the area of Nowhere, taxes weren't hardly anything. Basically less than what you'd pay in a year for a single family house, in a working class part of the city.

And he'd have ten times the property, plus the peace and quiet.

Really, with what he planned to have built up in his savings, the interest alone on _that_ account, should cover all the tax stuff, no problem. So all he had to do to get to his paradise, was put in a few more years here living in hell. Living in full on hell though, like this neighborhood . . . he kicked a needle off the sidewalk . . . that was admittedly his choice. Because he made more than enough doing his welding and plumbing work, that he could've gotten himself a decent place in a much safer part of the city. The thing was though . . . safe neighborhoods cost money. Where he was now, he paid literally three _hundred_ a month in rent for a one bedroom. But that same size apartment in a neighborhood where he could go walkin' around in after dark, would've cost him at least eleven hundred bucks. So that was nearly a full _ten grand_ EXTRA a year, he'd been saving just for living in the shithole.

So the tradeoff from a nice neighborhood was more than worth it.

But he was thinking that he might have finally got himself a bright spot in that hole he called home . . . Carol. Obviously she wasn't the first single woman in the building . . . the place was actually crawling with 'em . . . but most of the others were just too young, or not his type.

Like take Carmen Fernandez, for instance.

She was, no doubt, a _fine_ lookin' woman, with a hell of a figure . . . but she was only twenty-three years old. And she was from some big city down in Venezuela of all places. The two of them had literally _nothin'_ in common.

Not even a language.

Of course a lot of men would've seen that as a positive. But he had chosen to live in this building for practical reasons, so he had no intention of clutterin' up his home life with relationships he knew weren't gonna go anywhere. Or to put it like his long incarcerated brother Merle would've said . . . and Merle had no class at all . . . you just don't shit where you eat. So yeah, that's why he generally kept things on the up and up when it came to interacting with those young, single mamas . . . he let out a wistful sigh . . . no matter how nicely firm little asses, and big bouncy breasts, the mamas like Carmen and Rosalie, had.

It just wasn't worth it to get himself into that kind of mess with girls that age.

So no, outside of him asking Carol . . . a _grown_ woman with the prettiest blue eyes he'd seen maybe in his lifetime . . . if she'd like to have dinner him, out of all the ladies he'd met in that building over the last three years, he'd only been personally involved with one other. Her name had been Lori. She'd had a five year old boy, and (at that time when they first met), a fairly recently dead husband. They'd only picked up 'cuz she was real matter of fact about the whole thing.

Almost professional even.

It was about three months after he'd moved in, one Saturday night she'd knocked on his door out of the blue. At that point they'd seen each other around the mailboxes, and the laundry room, enough that he'd met both her and her boy, Carl, maybe a dozen or more times in passing. The first few hellos had led to a regular high fives with her son, and then finally one day him getting down on his hands and knees to dig out two rolls of quarters that Lori's little one had accidentally knocked down into the rat droppings behind the washing machines.

He found out later that bit of, "chivalry," as Lori had called it, was what set the course for what came next.

Because it was just five days later, when she'd showed up there at his apartment dressed mighty fine, and smelling even better, as she'd told him that if he was interested, she had a proposal she'd like to make. At that point they were still just standing there in his doorway, so his eyebrow had kinda quirked up to his hairline, because he couldn't for the life of him imagine what sort of 'proposal' she was thinking of making. Or yeah okay, maybe he could've _IMAGINED_ it . . . the cut on that dress had been giving him some _filthy_ ideas . . . but he'd sure as shit had had no intention of speaking his thoughts on that point, until he was sure he wasn't totally misinterpretin' what she'd wanted from him.

But what she'd wanted, was confirmed, about ten seconds later.

Because that's when she'd unzipped her purse, and showed him the box of condoms she'd just bought. Then she'd told him that she hadn't sex since her husband had died thirteen months earlier, and that she had no interest in dating anybody, but that she thought he seemed nice, and looked to be unattached, and she was getting pretty lonely. Her voice had started to thicken a bit then, but she'd cleared over that before she'd added on in a quieter tone, as she stared down at her fancy black heels . . . he could still picture that part, because he did still love those heels . . . that she wasn't looking for anything from him but maybe an hour of his time, once a week if she could get the babysitter.

Then she'd looked back up.

By then her cheeks were flushed bright red, and she was wringing her hands together like she was drying out a washcloth, so he could see how embarrassed she was to be saying these things. But still, she hadn't blinked. And she hadn't looked away.

She'd just waited to see what he'd say back.

A few seconds passed where he'd just stared at her there with her big brown eyes, and her pretty green sundress and her hair up with little curls hanging down. It was the first time he'd seen her with her hair like that . . . it was clear she'd done it special . . . and she did look very pretty. And he'd felt real bad for her too, that she'd been lonely enough to come to get to where they were. Because he had seen how she was still wearing her wedding band on her finger, and she'd had a bigger one on the chain around her neck.

Right there with a heart shaped locket.

Yep, that woman had showed up asking him to have sex with her, even while she was wearing her husband's ring (and his picture, he would find out soon enough) right there over her heart. So it had been clear from that first knock on the door, that she really hadn't been looking for a new man.

'Cuz she was nowhere near done yet with the old one.

So after a moment of thinking on it, he'd tipped his head, and had asked her if she'd wanted to come in. So she had. And they talked a little more. Just enough really for each of them to be sure the other wasn't a secret crazy person. Then he'd asked her if she wanted to have a drink first, and she'd said good God yes, please. Whiskey if you have it. That was when he'd realized that she wasn't just embarrassed about being there, but she was nervous as hell too. And so while they were each drinking down their two fingers of Jack Daniels on ice, he'd asked how long she and her husband had been together. And her eyes had filled up then, right before she'd swallowed down her sip, and gave him a sad smile. Twenty-one years, she'd answered, with a crack in her voice.

Twenty-one years.

Yeah, it turned out they'd been high school sweethearts, who'd been together since they was fourteen years old. Then they'd hit eighteen, got married, and he'd joined up with the Army. They'd traveled for a few years around the country to different bases, she'd had Carl, and then a year later, her husband had got shipped off overseas. Three tours he'd done before he'd died over there in Iraq, those thirteen months earlier. When she was done tellin him that part, and she'd blinked away her tears, he'd told her that if she was really sure she wanted to do what she was asking, they could take it real slow.

So that's what they did.

They went slow. And she'd cried when they'd started, and then she'd cried again at the end. The first time he'd stopped and waited until she told him it was okay to keep going. The second time he just rolled over and held her to his chest. It took a couple of minutes, but finally she gave one last sniffle before she sat up, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then they split a cigarette, and she got dressed and left. And they repeated that near exact ritual, once a week, for the next year and a half. Even then, they still of course ran into each other sometimes in the laundry room or out by the mailboxes, but they never got together on purpose, for more than that hour on Friday or Saturday night. And she'd always come dressed up pretty, and they always had a whiskey before and a cigarette after. They talked a little in-between, but not too much. And she'd cried less as the months went by, but she most definitely cried every time.

Always a few tears at the beginning, and always a lot more tears at the end.

Once, maybe six months or so into that strange affair, while he was laying there in bed, watching her slip her dress over her head, he'd asked her why she kept coming back, if it made her so sad to be with somebody else. And she'd stopped what she was doing to look over at him, with her slinky black strap half off her shoulder. Then she'd let out a heavy sigh, and had started to explain how she was already sad all the time, and that she worried how she might always be sad, but that the sex reminded her that she was still alive. And she'd cried then _because_ she was alive . . . and Shane wasn't.

Then she finished pulling on her dress, and she'd turned around, and he sat up then to zip it like he always did. Then she turned back, gave him a last kiss on the lips like she always did . . . and went on her way.

It was a good arrangement for as long as it lasted. But then one week while they were splitting the cigarette, she'd patted his belly and told him that she'd applied for a position as the emergency dispatcher with the King's County Sheriff's Department. The week after that (during the whiskey) she'd mentioned that she got an interview on that dispatcher thing, and then the week after _that_ , while he was zipping up her dress, she'd whispered that she'd been offered the job.

Then she'd burst into tears.

Truth be told, he'd felt a real kick in his gut then too. Because what they'd had was nice, but like every nice thing he'd ever had in his life . . . it ended. But he didn't tell her that, he just held her like he always had when she cried. That was the first time though that she'd ever cried over him, and not Shane.

It was also the first time that he'd ever felt like crying with her.

Things went on though, like they always did. To give herself time to find a new place to live, and not mess up her boy's schooling too badly, Lori gave one month's notice on the job she had as a dispatcher with Grady Memorial. So he and she, they kept up their regular routine that whole last month. He even came over on a couple of nights just to help her and Carl pack up their stuff. She made mac and cheese with tomatoes for them on the first evening, and he brought Chinese over on the second. Sitting there with Lori on her couch that second night, while they watched, and chuckled, at Carl sitting on the floor, trying to eat with the plastic chopsticks that came with the food, was the only time anything about what they'd had felt real. Things that were real though, they hurt more when they were gone.

Still . . . his brow furrowed . . . he didn't regret those days either.

And that whole last week before she moved, Lori showed up at his door every night at eight o'clock, and she stayed almost two full hours every time. They went through nearly two boxes of condoms those last seven days, 'cuz she said she'd wanted to try all the things she'd never done before. So they did lots of new stuff, with all kinds of positions she'd looked up on the Internet. And some of it she really liked and some of it he really liked and some of it they just both agreed was a lot of work for less reward. But they always finished doing it the same way they had from the beginning. That was him on top, her on the bottom, her left leg up over his shoulder, and her right foot digging up high into his back. It was a classic, and it got them both there every time.

It worked even faster for him when she kept the heels on.

So that last Friday when she'd showed up, looking extra nice in her polka dot sundress . . . the yellow one he'd once told her was his favorite . . . they went with the classic, plus heels. Of course that was after he gave her a proper, _personal_ goodbye present. Basically they had a very sweet time.

And she didn't cry once.

Then they had their cigarette, he helped her get dressed, she gave him one last kiss . . . and he wished her good luck.

Then he sent her on to her new life.

Since the day she'd left, she'd written to him maybe a half dozen times, kinda sporadic. Nice letters. Just telling him about Carl, and her work, and how she missed the city a little, and how she missed him a lot, but that he didn't need to write back because she knew that wasn't his thing. And she signed all the letters just, "Lori," but then with three Xs and two Os right below her name. That always made him smile. Then one day early last summer, he'd got a new letter from her. That one was telling him how she'd met a sweet man at work.

His name was Rick.

And he was one of the deputies who'd just switched over to the day shift that she'd been working, and he'd asked her if she might want to have dinner sometime. When she sent the letter she was still thinking about the offer. That was in June. The next time he heard from her was with a card at Christmas. Inside was a picture of her and Carl and a strong looking man with bright blue eyes, who Daryl had never seen before. But they all three looked pretty happy together standing there in front of the sign for the Atlanta Zoo. The other thing inside the card was a long letter from Lori. She'd told him how she and Rick had been dating since not long after her last letter in the spring, and that he and Carl had made fast friends. And that Rick had asked her on Thanksgiving, after the pie, if she would please start thinking about whether or not she might like to get married again someday. And if she decided that did want to get married, could she please think about whether or not she might like to be married to him. She'd said then that it was so sweet how he'd asked, with no pressure, that she'd told him that she would give him an answer to both questions soon. That's when he'd told her that he understood that she still loved her husband, and that he would never ask her to choose between them, he just was hoping that maybe she could find a place for him too. So he left, and she thought about the idea of moving on, then she prayed on it, and once she'd made up her own mind, she talked to Carl to make sure her answers were okay with him too. They were. So finally, four days after Rick had asked her to marry him, she invited him back over for the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers, and had told him yes, to all the questions.

Two weeks later she found out she was pregnant.

She'd realized two days after, that it was actually on Shane's birthday when she got the results from the doctor. And figuring then that was a real sign that he approved of her new man and this new life they were starting, she'd finally taken his ring off the chain, and switched his picture for Rick's in her locket. Then she'd finished the letter by telling Daryl that she was probably going to keep writing him the occasional note, if that was okay. Because she still missed him sometimes, and on those days when she did, it made her feel better to know that he was still out there, and that she could still talk to him.

Even if he didn't answer back.

That was five months ago, and Daryl had left both the Christmas photo, and the letter, taped to his fridge, because sometimes he still missed her too. So he liked to look at the picture, and know that she was out there . . . and that she was happy. Beyond just that though, sometimes he also looked at that letter just to remind himself how it was still possible to find somebody good and decent to build a real life with.

Even if the years had passed.

But until he'd met Carol there in the hall and had got pulled in with those big blue eyes of hers, that relationship with Lori really had been the sum total of his "romantic entanglements," there in the city. And really, things with Lori never were romantic. Yeah, over time they had grown to truly care for one other, and he did like that she kept in touch, just so he could know she was doin' well, but it wasn't like they ever fell in love or anything. They'd just both been alone, and had kept each other company for a while.

That was all.

With Carol though, he already knew that kind of 'company' wouldn't be a good idea. For one thing, he was already feeling a genuine attraction for her. That was very different than how things had started with Lori. If she hadn't knocked on his door, probably nothing would've ever happened between them. It wasn't that he hadn't thought she was pretty . . . or unlike Carmen, age appropriate . . . but in those early meetings around the building, he just hadn't felt any kind of special pull for her. She just wasn't his type.

Plus she was like _ridiculously_ tall.

The tall thing ended up working out well for the sex, and those heels, but the emotions never went beyond the sentimental. But since he'd got that letter over the holidays, and had seen how she was settling down now to try and live a full life, he'd started gettin' an itch to find a lady friend. A real one, not like with Lori. But as he started up the front steps of his stoop, he figured this dinner tomorrow night with Carol would be a good place to start that search. Not like he was expecting Coke and pizza to be the beginnin' of a great romance or nothing, but hell, Lori just moved north for a job and to get her kid a backyard, and now she had a new man and a new baby on the way. You never could tell what the big thing was gonna be that changed your whole life.

You just had to be watching for it when it came.

It was a thought on his mind as he stepped through the front door, and started down that dingy hallway heading towards the stairs. That's when he heard the sound of feet running on the landing just above.

It was kind of a scamper.

And his brow wrinkled as he paused there on the stained carpet, to bring his free hand up to his mid-section and under the loose flannel of his shirt. For a second he just listened while his fingertips lightly tapped on the smooth metal of the Glock, sitting in the cross-draw holster there on his waist. He wore that gun everywhere, for good reason. And right now he was very grateful to have it, because it was too early for the neighbors on his floor to be home yet. Carol and her girl so far generally seemed to show up around five, and Miss Janel and her little boy got home even later than that.

So there shouldn't be nobody up on two right now but him.

And after letting out a heavy breath, he called out, loudly, up the staircase.

"Who's up there on two?!"

He gave it a second, but nobody answered, and that was even though he knew damn well that _somebody_ was up there. And in this neighborhood, 'somebody' could well be trying to break into your apartment, or waiting to bash you over the skull, for some dumbass initiation. So after shaking his head, he walked over and put his bags down on the staircase before he slipped the pistol out from under his shirt.

He kept it down low though, with the safety still on, as he continued walking up the steps, with his back to the wall so he could see over the railing. It wasn't until he'd got to around the halfway point . . . that was about eight steps up . . . before he caught sight of who had been running across the creaky boards.

Carol's daughter.

There she was, huddled up in the corner, with her purple backpack pulled tight against her chest like a shield . . . she was all alone up there.

And she was crying.

Both those things scared him quite a bit. Especially when he heard her he let out a half muffled sob of, "please go away," into her chest.

"Hey sweetheart," he called out softly, as he raised one hand, and quickly slipped his gun back into his holster with the other, "it's me, Daryl. We met the other day here in the hall with your mama, you remember?"

Her head came up, and her eyes widened then as she straightened up a little.

"I remember," she whispered with a nervous bite to her lip. So he gave her a small, tight, smile.

"Okay then," he put his finger up, "so you hold on, and I'll be right there and you can tell me what's wrong."

So he turned back, and rushed down the half dozen steps so he could grab up his bags. Then he turned around, and ran straight up to the second floor landing.

Once he was there, he just kept moving fast down the hall, dropping his stuff onto the floor in front of Carol's door, so he could get her daughter slumped there in the corner, still crying.

He stooped down in front of her.

"Sophia," he murmured tightly with a gentle pat to her little shoulder, "now you tell me what's wrong, sweetheart, and why you're out here by yourself." His eyes briefly darted around the floor, looking of evidence of he didn't even know what, before his attention snapped back to that teary face.

"Where's your mama at?"

Though he knew he was throwing a lot of questions at a little person, he was trying to keep his tone soft. That was even though all he could think, given his limited knowledge of their personal lives, was that somehow Sophia's daddy had shown up and done something awful to her mama. Because from what he'd seen so far, Carol just didn't act the type at all to be one who would let her little one be out alone like this. Especially not when she knew how unsafe it was with Melvin around. And it didn't help his nerves none when Sophia broke out into fresh sobs at his questions. But after he got her doing some deep breaths in and out, she finally calmed down enough to start hiccupping out her answers.

The story she started to tell, was not the one he'd been imagining at all.

"Somebody set a fire in both the boys' rooms at school," she sniffled out, "so they sent us out to line up on the sidewalk, but then the fire trucks came, and the principal lady said we were all supposed to go home. But," and that's when she started to cry again, "Mama doesn't pick me up from my special class 'til four. And I didn't know where her work was, and I couldn't find the teacher 'cuz she'd left, so I ran here," she hiccupped, "and I almost got lost, but then I saw the chicken place and I remembered where to go, but," she shook her head sadly as another tear slid down her cheek, "then I got stuck out here because I don't have a key. And," she swallowed, "that creepy man Mama said to stay away from, he kept coming up here and looking at me. I thought you were him coming up again."

Daryl's brow had been darkening with each heartbroken little sniffle, because he just could not BELIEVE that school was so fucked as to send off a baby her size . . . seriously that child barely came halfway up his chest(!) . . . off alone. But when she got to the last bit of the story, his blood actually went from red hot, to ice cold.

"Did that creepy man do anything besides look at you?" He breathed out, his heart half in his throat as the fingers on his other hand curled into a fist. But then Sophia gave a hard, violent, shake of her head.

"No," she bit her lip, "he just kept scaring me. Coming to the stairs, and," her whole face twisted up, "peeking over."

"Is that right?" Daryl murmured back with a tight clench of his jaw, as he threw a look over his shoulder towards the staircase Melvin had apparently been slithering up and down all afternoon. Apparently even with that beating he gave him on Tuesday, spotting a pretty little girl all alone had been just too much of a temptation for him. So it was definite now . . . Daryl's jaw snapped . . . Melvin was going to take that ride on his boot, from the roof, all the way down to the basement where he'd be ricocheting off the concrete walls down there like a damn bouncy ball. Fuck man . . . he let out a slow breath . . . by the time he was done with him, that bastard was goin' to be fucking Humpty Dumpty trying to put his bones back together again.

And Daryl got distracted enough thinking about how to lure that snake out of his apartment to be beat to an inch of his life, that he didn't realize he'd looked away from Sophia for long enough, that her breaths start huffing again.

He looked back to see she was once more on the verge of full blown sobbing. His expression immediately softened as his fist unclenched.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured with a soft smile, "you're okay. Melvin ain't gonna bother you again, I promise you that. And we can go over to my place now, and call your mama, all right?"

"Um," she sniffled again as she slowly pushed herself up until she was standing straight, "I'm not supposed to go with strangers but," she bit her lip as she looked him up and down, "Mama did say we were all gonna have pizza tomorrow." Her little brow wrinkled then as she scrubbed at the tears on her cheek, "I don't know if I can go with you without Mama. But," her voice thickened, "I don't want to stay here by myself."

Feeling his chest ache at the pain and panic in the voice of a little person trying to make a smart, grownup decision, Daryl immediately stooped back down. Then he gave her a sad smile, because this was the world.

People just couldn't be trusted.

"You're a smart girl," he said softly, "because we are still technically strangers right now. And to be honest, if you were my little one," he shook his head, "I'd tell you not to ever trust any grown man well enough to go into his apartment all alone. But," he tipped his head, "we are kind of in a pickle here, because it ain't safe for me to leave you out here neither. I just can't do that. So," he started pulling his keys out of his pocket, "with it being just the two of us, how about we do this? I'll get you a cushion from the couch, and you can sit down right inside my doorway, and I'll get the phone and you can talk to your mama down there. And we can keep the door open the whole time, okay?"

For a second she just looked up at him, with her little brow screwed up so tight. But then finally she gave a sharp nod.

"Okay." She let out a heavy breath, "I think that's okay." Then her voice cracked again, "I just want to talk to my mama."

"I know, sweetheart," he answered gently as he started pushing himself to his feet, "and we're gonna do that first thing. I promise."

And as he walked over to pick his bags of food and liquor respectively, to carry into his apartment, Daryl called over his shoulder to Sophia now pushing her backpack onto her shoulder.

"Do you know the name of the place where your mama does her waitressing?"

That's when a fresh look of panic came across that tear streaked face.

"Oh, um," she swallowed nervously, "no, I don't know the name, and I never went there. But," her eyes widened a bit, "I know it has a big blue coffee cup in the window with twinkle lights on it, because Mama said it was pretty."

"Big blue coffee cup with twinkle lights," Daryl repeated back, just before his nose scrunched, "did she say if there's a firehouse next door?"

"Oh, yeah," Sophia yelped, that time with relief, and a near smile, "that's right! She said the firemen come in for breakfast, they told her to bring me down on the weekend and I could get a ride on the firetruck."

"Okay then," his eyes crinkled as started walking over to his door, balancing his bags and his keys, "I know right where that place is. I can look up the number."

Then while he was sliding the key into the lock, he shot a side eye down to the little girl coming up at his side.

Though she looked notably less panic stricken than a moment before, she was still scrubbing at her eyes. And as he pushed the door open and pulled the key back out, he asked her another question.

One that he already knew the answer to.

"It was real scary being here by yourself, huh?"

A second passed where she just looked down the short hallway and into his living room . . . the sun was shining bright in through the windows. She looked up.

"Uh huh," she bit her lip, "it was scary. It wasn't just the creepy man. There were people yelling outside. And something broke. And I heard a police car and a fire truck, I think." Her lips pressed together, "it's been noisy."

"Mmm," he nodded, "I'll bet. And," he stepped over the threshold into his apartment, "there might still be noisy stuff goin' on outside, but I don't think it'll be so scary now. So," he pushed the door back firmly against the wall, "you wait right here, and I'll be right back with the cushion and then I'll look up that number for your mama's work."

Though having to make that call to her mama, and likely scare the living crap out of her, was not one he was looking forward to making. Because if Sophia was _his_ kid, and some neighbor he barely knew, called to say he'd just found his daughter sitting out in the hallway by herself, and a peed-ophile had been _stalking_ her, he'd likely hit the God damn roof! Hell, Sophia wasn't even his kid and he still wanted to hit the God damn roof! And he most definitely wanted to go down to that school of hers and tear somebody a new one. Sending a little girl home by herself, through a neighborhood like THIS, was practically criminal!

It was lucky she hadn't been snatched up off the street!

And actually if Melvin hadn't just taken that beatin' the other day, odds were good he probably woulda snatched her up off the floor here, and done God knew what to her before anybody even knew she was missing. Seriously . . . Daryl's jaw clenched as he hurried down the hall to the kitchen . . . he needed to get that son of a bitch GONE! Maybe he could stick some kiddie porn under his door, and make an anonymous call to the police to get him picked up. Not like Melvin probably didn't have his own nasty stack of pictures, but if Daryl moved to try and get the cops involved again, he knew they'd need something solid to act on.

Those disgusting magazines would be enough.

In the meantime though, after he threw his bags on the counter, he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, an orange out of the fruit bowl, and then the big leather cushion off the sofa over in the living room, before he hurried back the hall to the doorway, where Sophia was still standing with her backpack on her shoulder. She'd at least stopped crying.

But she was still biting her lip.

And even while he was putting the cushion down, he was handing her the soda and the water with the other hand.

"Here's a snack," he murmured with a faint crinkle of his eyes, "because I heard your belly rumbling before, so you take a load off, and I'll be back in a minute with the phone."

"'K," she whispered as she moved to sit down, "thank you."

So with that girl finally settled and mostly safe (having the door open in this building made him a little antsy, even if he knew that was what was best) he went back into the living room to dig the slightly dusty, Greater Atlanta phone book out from where it was buried under a stack of take-out menus, on the second shelf of the wooden coffee table. And after he'd plopped down onto the edge of his recliner so he could keep half an eye down to the little one peeling open her orange, he started flipping through the pages to the Restaurant section, until he finally found the name of the diner . . . the Blue Moon Café, if he was guessing correct . . . where he was pretty sure Carol was working at.

His brow wrinkled as he read over the street address.

Yeah . . . he nodded slowly to himself . . . that seemed right. It was a place about twelve blocks away on a near straight shot, in a notably less sketchy neighborhood than the one where they all lived. So he reached over and picked up the cordless off the table, and punched in the digits.

It rang four times before somebody answered. That somebody was a very grumpy man with a very heavy accent, because of course Daryl couldn't be lucky enough to have Carol be the one to pick up the phone. And when he asked if he could please speak to her, the man (Greek maybe, he was thinking) said she couldn't take personal calls at work . . . because of course it was one of _those_ kinds of places . . . Daryl bit down hard on his temper, and made up a story about being the landlord, and there being a water leak in her apartment. And he said that, 'cuz he figured any variation of the truth which included the phrase, "it's about her daughter," would give the poor thing a heart attack.

But the water leak story got him past the phone nazi, because he heard a grunt, and then a muffled yell of Carol's name and the landlord story. A minute later she came on the line half in a panic.

"Hello yes, this is Carol, what about a leak?"

"Uh, hey," he answered then with a clearing of his throat, "it's Daryl, you know from across the hall, and you ain't got a leak in the apartment, but if that jackass is still standin' there, keep playing on like you do, because he didn't want to let you come to the phone."

"Oh, uh, um," she started to stutter in obvious confusion, "okay, uh, hold on one second, please."

That's when Daryl heard some muffled noises through the line, and some more murmuring, and then a few seconds later Carol came back again, now whispering, but at least she seemed to be by herself. Because the first words out of her mouth were, "all right, I can talk now."

"All right," he let out a sigh as he stared down the hall at the little girl undoing the cap on the water bottle, "now try and stay calm, 'cuz she's fine, and nothing bad happened to her, but I did just get home to find your girl sitting on the floor in the upstairs hallway."

For a second there was dead silence, and then Carol stammered back half in shock.

"Whaa . . . how, why isn't she in _school_?!"

The last she hissed out, almost in a yell. And so he started tapping his finger on the back of the phone, because he did so hate this part.

"Well," he bit his lip, "what she said was somebody set a fire in the boys rooms and all the kids got sent home. And I don't know what the hell kind of joint they're running there, but those jackasses sent her off alone. She was pretty shook up when I found her, but she wasn't hurt, just real scared. And now we're at my place, and I gave her a snack. If you want I can keep her 'til you get back, or," he shrugged, even though she couldn't see him, "if you got another babysitter somewhere, I can bring her there for ya."

Again, a moment passed where there was nothing but silence coming through the line, and then he heard Carol sniffle.

"I don't have anybody else to watch her, and I'm afraid if I leave I'll get fired." Then her voice cracked, "she's so little, I just can't believe they just sent her home all by herself."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "I know. I can't believe it either. Actually if you wanna let me go down there to the school with you and tear somebody a new one, I'll be happy too, because it's just pure luck nothing bad happened."

"Yeah," she sniffled, "that's what I keep thinking too, with that horrible neighborhood, even I don't feel safe walking through there in the afternoon. And God," she sniffed again, "she's only eight years old! I don't even let her cross the street by herself."

Then she paused for a second before adding on then with a bit of hesitation.

"But um, if you really are serious about wanting to yell at someone, you could come with me tomorrow, because as mad as I am now, I'm afraid that I'll get there and just chicken out." Her voice faded off in another sniff, "I'm still not good at confrontations."

"Well," he let out a grunt, "I can handle 'em just fine, so yeah, I'll go with you and make sure somebody's ass hits the fire. But for now though," his eyebrow quirked up, "you want me to keep her until you get here, right?"

"Um, yes," she answered then with a crackle in her voice, "please, if you could. I know it's weird asking given how we barely talked before, but I really do think I'll get fired if I leave. But I can pay you later for your time."

"Pfft," he snorted, "don't be silly. You don't gotta pay me. It ain't no bother. She's just sitting quiet with her snack, so she's fine. I told her she could talk to you though, so," he started to stand up, "can you stay on the line for another second?"

"Oh, yes, please," he heard her sniffle again as he started down the hall, "the other girl is covering my tables and Stavros went into the office again so I can talk to her for a minute. And I should be home in about an hour or so."

"Yeah, okay," he nodded, "and like I said, it's no bother, now hold on," he stopped in front of the leather cushion, "here she is."

Then he leaned down to hold the phone out to Sophia.

"It's your mama."

And those little girl's eyes widened as she fumbled to bring the phone to her ear . . . he caught the last half of orange just before it fell onto the floor.

"Mama, is that you?" Sophia let out on a sob of relief. And then as her eyes filled up again, there was, "yep, I'm okay. That man Daryl gave me a water and an orange."

Then there was another pause, before Daryl saw those one of the new tears spill over right before, "yeah, I was careful at the lights, I pushed the button like you said, and I looked both ways and nobody tried to talk to me. But," her voice cracked, "that creepy man you told me to stay away from, did keep coming up the stairs to look at me. I got real scared then."

When Sophia started telling Carol about Melvin, that's when Daryl winced, because he'd totally forgotten to mention that snake pokin' his head out of the hole.

Shit.

And while he was chewing on his thumbnail, thinking about that, he listened as Sophia assured her mama three times that Melvin didn't get close enough to touch her. Then there was another pause before her voice dropped down even lower, and she turned away from him to ask if it was okay for her to go inside his apartment, because she was just sitting in the doorway right now. She was quiet for a few seconds after that, so clearly Carol was saying something. Whatever it was led to a nod from the little one . . . though it seemed to be a nod to herself . . . right before she bit down on her lip.

She looked up at him.

"Mama said it's okay to come in," she held the phone out, "and she wants to talk to you again."

So Daryl took the phone, and before Carol could even start speaking, he'd turned and started to walk back towards the living room.

"Hey, yeah, uh, about her coming inside, um I thought it best . . ."

But then Carol cut in.

"I understand totally," she whispered, "and honestly I am not someone who would ever tell her daughter to go to the apartment of a man we'd only met once, but," her voice cracked, "my gut tells me you're a decent person, and really if you weren't then you wouldn't have saved us the other day, and you certainly wouldn't have tracked me down now so I could talk to my daughter. So I trust you, Daryl," she let out a heavy breath, "I do."

Feeling his expression soften at both Carol's tone and her words, Daryl closed his eyes for a second. Because no matter what she was saying, he could tell how big a deal this was for her to place this trust in him, when she had so little to base that feeling on. And he hated that they were all three of them stuck in this weird situation that should never have happened if not for that school fucking up so bad.

Suddenly though, an idea came to him.

"You know what we're gonna do," he came back then with a firm nod to himself, "Sophia and I, we're goin' to come down to your work, and we'll walk you home. By the time we get there, it should be close to time for you to be gettin' off. Because honestly Carol," his voice dropped even further as he went down to pick up the bags of Chinese and beer . . . he needed to put them both into the fridge, "I appreciate you putting your trust in me, and I promise it's not misplaced, but I know Sophia has been taught rules about strangers, and I don't want to soften them because she really shouldn't, as a general thing, be trusting men she don't know. And I'm still feeling kind of strange too having her in here for that same reason, that it just ain't done, so I think this is the best thing for all of us. We'll just come down, and if we're early, we'll get a couple Cokes and wait for ya. We won't bother you at all until you got your apron off, and you're ready to go. Does that sound good?"

Again, there was a sniffle. And then a happy, though tear filled, "that sounds great, thank you so much Daryl for being so good about all of this. And I have to say," she added then with a bit of shyness, "I am really looking forward even more now, to our dinner tomorrow."

Feeling a spot of warmth in his chest, his eyes crinkled slightly as he knocked the refrigerator door shut with his hip.

"Well, hell," he huffed while he was turning around to pick up his keys off the counter again, "given the afternoon we three are having, you guys can come over for dinner tonight if you want. I just put Chinese in the fridge. And you know they always give you too much, so if you ain't fussy about splitting the egg roll, there should be plenty to go around."

That time he heard a half smothered giggle, and then, another happy sniff, "I'm not fussy. And Chinese sounds a whole lot better than our Ramen soup."

Daryl's eyes crinkled as he paused to look down at Sophia just popping the last slice of orange into her mouth.

"Okay then," his lip quirked up, "we'll see you in about twenty, twenty-five minutes depending on how fast those short legs can walk."

And after Carol let out another huff, and a, "bye now," he pressed down the silver button to end the call. Then he raised his voice just a bit.

"Hey, Sophia?"

Her head popped up at that, and seeing her eyes widen his lip quirked up, as he started to walk down the hall.

"Your mama and I just decided that you and I are gonna take a stroll down the street, and meet her at work, okay?"

Seeing how that little face lit up then, between that, and the relief he'd heard in Carol's voice, Daryl knew for sure that this was the best choice out of their limited options. So after he'd reached down to grab up the cushion again . . . plus Sophia's orange skin, and half empty bottle of water . . . seeing how that girl was starting to dance when she stood up, he sent her into the bathroom off the hallway to go pee, while he went to put his couch back together.

He was just coming back from throwing away the orange peel, when he heard the toilet flush. So while she finished up in there, he went over to pick up her purple backpack from the floor, because he was figuring there was no reason for her to be lugging that behemoth with them, when she could just pick it up when they got home for dinner.

It was as he was dropping it onto the couch in the living room, that he heard that little voice from not far behind him.

"Thank you for calling my mom."

He turned around then with another small quirk of his lip.

"Of course sweetheart," he nodded, "anytime. Now come on," he jingled his keys as he started walking towards the door, "let's get moving before your mama thinks we got lost walkin' a straight line."

And with that . . . and Sophia's happy giggle . . . they headed out.

* * *

 _A/N 2: Lori! So, I came across this picture of Sarah and Norman (back around season 2 to 3, based on the length of his hair) and it's a very sweet photo of the two of them at some event where her hair is up and she has on a pretty green dress, and it was fresh in my head when I was writing the draft of this chapter some months ago. And I knew that I would never write a full Daryl/Lori love story because that doesn't appeal to me at all, but when I was thinking about a woman that AU Daryl might have spent some time with in the city (so he wouldn't have been weirdly, totally celibate for three years with all of those young single mamas around), I could just see Lori again playing the role of grieving widow, again becoming involved with a man despite still being in love with her dead husband. Personally (and I might have made this note over on Cedar Forest), I saw her involvement with Shane to have been, in large part, a practical decision. She was trying to keep her son alive, and she was doing what she had to. Basically I always thought Lori got a raw deal in canon, and I thought this was a good twist for her. Once more, her involvement with another man has a practical basis, she's just lonely, but there's also a genuine sweetness to this thing she and Daryl had, even if they both knew they weren't in love. So I wanted their relationship to have been important to Daryl (that's why I let him fall into his memories), to show that this version of him has that depth and desire to find somebody to be happy with. And I just didn't want to kill Rick off because I like Rick :), so I thought a nice twist would be that Shane had been her first love/Carl's father and Rick came later and he's Judith's father. So again, AU flip on canon, and I thought a good trigger point for Daryl to realize that it was time for him to start finally looking for that lady friend to go live on the lake house with him or he might miss his chance. That's why he decided to take the leap and ask out the new neighbor, because he keeps thinking about Lori's letter. And I might have Lori and Rick pop up at some point outside of just her letters. We'll see how long this thing goes :)_

 _Beyond that, you clearly have a better understanding now of what Daryl's doing there in this lousy neighborhood, in a city that he hates living in. More of his backstory, and why/how long Merle is/has been in prison (you caught the hint in here), will come up as things go on._

 _And I had this idea for Daryl coming home to find Sophia alone and scared as a means to help them bond more quickly, but in a non ZA world, it's very difficult to justify a grown man taking a little girl that he's only met for two previous minutes, into his home, without it coming off very creepy. If dead people are trying to eat you outside, concerns about that kind of propriety clearly no longer exist, but here I just couldn't have him take her inside and lock the door without giving myself a, blech, feeling. I tried three different variations and just kept saying, nope, it's too soon, and that's even though I know Daryl's a good guy! But they haven't had their pizza date yet, so he barely knows Carol, let alone Sophia, so it's just not appropriate for them to be alone together and he would know that, and he wouldn't put himself in a situation where wrong inferences could possibly be made. Especially with his feelings about Melvin. So that's why he decided to walk down to the diner because it immediately took off that creep factor. That was also good though, because once I decided to take them down there, I got a couple more new scenes in my head for the next chapter, so it all fell together the way it was supposed to :)_

 _Thanks all of you who came back here! I can't promise this will become a front burner because I really want to move This Is Now forward again (active draft in progress), and Cedar Forest (two active drafts in progress) has a foreseeable end point in my head, but I will try to update here more frequently than every six months :)_


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